Salvation
by 14member
Summary: just a little happy story about Elliot/Kirsty. Just to remind people that these two have never been enemies.


**_Well, some of the readers could already see this fanfic before. You're right, it was previously published by author Laura in her fanfiction "Kirsty's fate" but now this fanfic removed, and it seems she has refused this chapter. I think it's because she's not a fan of Elliot / Kirsty pairing. This chapter was written by me. I am the author. Laura added from herself a couple of sentences, which is not here. This is my version, without Laura corrections. I'm posting this fanfic here, because I am very angry at comics from Boom Studios, because how they have changed the characters of Pinhead (Elliot) and Kirsty. I just want to remind people that Elliot (human) have never tried to hurt Kirsty, he did not hate her. I'm afraid that because of these new comics, people began to forget this fact._**

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**Salvation**

I won't tell anybody how I've managed to do that. I mean, turn the demon into a human again. It's too powerful of a knowledge – I've burdened myself hard enough already keeping it in my head. And if somebody else gets to know about that…I don't know, to my mind it's going to be a disaster. Anyway, I'm sure that people won't get proper use of this knowledge. That's why I won't share this with anyone, even with my diary. And that's why I have no right to tell about that determining day.  
Suffice to say, that my life's changed completely, and I hope irreversibly. Firstly, I've got to know that my dad is not in hell for sure. That consoled me, my conscience and saved me from nightmares. Secondly, I've found the way of spending my dad's and uncle's fortune – to make fake documents for Elliot. And don't ask me where I've got them. But I did. Now I shouldn't be afraid that he might be stopped by the policeman in the street and asked of the ID – he has what to show.  
Elliot is eager to get the job. I can't imagine what type of job he should get for the modern world not to push on him. You see, he's been absent on Earth for nearly 90 years and many things changed. And although I believe that he had higher education and he could possibly be perfectly educated for him time, this knowledge and skills are obsolete. So that's what I do in all my spare time – teach him to live in present time.  
Whole day long he would sit with a notebook in his pocket and each time he hears an unfamiliar word, he would note in down and when I get home from work he would ask me about it, or search in the dictionaries himself. By the way, he loaded himself with books from my home library quite well- not only dictionaries, but encyclopedia, manuals, textbooks (especially history) and of course fiction – as his contemporary authors (I see it's easier and more pleasant for him to read) and several modern best-sellers and I carefully selected for him. As for technical part – he already manages microwave, coffee maker, vacuum cleaner and TV. But he would not watch TV very often – he says he understands too little in modern programs. I'm leading him through the history of cinema – starting with Chaplin and Keaton's comedies and yesterdays we were watching North by Northwest by Alfred Hitchcock. Elliot is still afraid to approach computer (my fault, I shouldn't have told him that it's easy to break), but when I work on it, he watches. From time to time he asks me to let him drive. I have no idea what 90-years-old cars might look like but I came to a conclusion, that if you're able to drive on of the earliest Fords you'll be hardly able to drive a modern one without crashing it to pieces. So I'm not letting him. I'd better save money for some second-hand car and send him to the driving school.  
Everything mentioned above may lead you to the thought and everything is OK and all my cares are hardly different from those of the people who take care of their coming out of coma relatives. In fact it's not true – there are problems and they are far from being usual.  
You see, Elliot's mind sometimes goes blank and he starts cutting himself "for his pleasure". He would simply explain to me that he just got used to it and "without pain he's not quite himself". I'm tired to be hysterical about that so, when such a masochist wish comes to his mind, I just send him to bathroom to do that – there it's easier to wipe off blood at least. To say nothing of his nightmares – my neighbors called to police twice being sure that somebody is being killed in my house. From time to time he's in epileptic fit – to be exact – I wish it was just epilepsy. He says it happens each time somebody opens a puzzle box on earth. Each time this happened I'm panic-stricken – not only because the box might be opened close to us and cenobites would get him, but also that demon inside him might break free once.  
No, I live not near the man lost in time, I live near a powder keg ready to explode any moment. I know what I'm doing. I'm ready for risk. Appearing in my house Elliott gave me what I thought I've lost forever – the meaning of life. Since the day my uncle killed my father I only existed, like a shadow or a ghost, lost in my fears and illusions. Now I live again. And even if everything ends badly, I won't regret a minute. The time given to us together is most important.  
Now, when I'm writing it down to my diary I'm sitting on the sofa, baseball on TV, and Elliot is lying near me with his head on my lap. He's having a quiet nap. To make a picture full some stupid and sweet romantic confessions should be added.  
- _Kirsty…_ - Elliot suddenly gave his voice –_ did I ever tell you that I love you?_  
The time itself seemed to stand still in some kind of waiting.  
- _You fraud_ – I burst into laughter. – _confess, you've read my thoughts, didn't you?_  
He says nothing, just smiles mysteriously and falls asleep again. I finish my message here – the last thing I'd like to say is that for the first time after the long long years I see the future optimistically.


End file.
